This Is My Rubik's Cube
by uponagraydawn
Summary: Hiccup struggles with the aftermath of the battle. (Post-HTTYD 2. Warning for brief graphic imagery.)


**I wrote this a year ago and kind of forgot about it. For maximum emotion, read this and listen to "Rubik's Cube" by Athlete.**

* * *

Sleep had not been coming so easily as of late. At first it was because of the silence and the darkness and the all-encompassing _emptiness_ that seemed to fill the entire village. There was evidence of it everywhere, from the chief's stand at the racetrack to the echoing vastness of the Great Hall. The statue that had been erected during Berk's reconstruction seemed more like a cruel reminder of what _wasn't_ there anymore than a tribute to celebrate what once had been.

At least, it did to Hiccup. Walking through the village was no longer all that enjoyable because such a key piece of it was gone. Forever. Everything just felt _wrong_. He had never known Berk without his father leading it. He'd never walked the roads through the houses without knowing that Stoick was nearby. He'd certainly never imagined that life without him would feel so vacant and _listless_. Stoick had brought the entire tribe a sense of strength and stability, so that even when times were trying, there was still the certainty that everything would eventually be all right again. And now that had been taken away. The assuredness, the security, the peace of mind—it was all gone.

To make matters worse, Hiccup was now expected to fill that role, and that was not something he was sure he could ever do. The shoes his father left behind were far too big for his small, mismatched feet.

Maybe the rest of the tribe didn't feel that way, but Hiccup certainly did. To him it felt as if the whole world had been yanked out from under his feet and now he was just so… _lost_. Even weeks later he was still reeling in shock. He didn't know what to do with the responsibilities that had been thrust on him so suddenly. For a chief and supposedly the pride of his village, he felt remarkably like a helpless little child. The era of his father's reign was not supposed to end so soon. Even with the knowledge that he would soon inherit the chiefdom, he'd always had the assurance of knowing that Stoick would still be there to help him along.

It was _cruel_ of him to leave Hiccup to do this on his own.

Entering the house for the first time since returning to Berk had been the worst part. Valka was with him, of course, and so was Toothless, but somehow their presence didn't make the experience any more bearable. When the door was opened, his feet came to a halt on the threshold. The house was cold and dark, the charred ashes in the firepot long since cooled. Everything was exactly the way it had been left two mornings before. Hiccup's journal was still on the table along with a few pieces of parchment marked with Stoick's handwriting. The whetting stone for his ax was on the bench where he'd set it down the previous night. It seemed like the house was just waiting for the man to return, like he always did.

That sight alone almost brought Hiccup to tears. He'd have to gather all of Stoick's belongings, store them away somewhere or burn them altogether.

Facing the house had suddenly become too much to bear. It took a nudge from Toothless to actually get him inside.

That first night had been a sleepless one. A cold, dreadful weight had settled in the pit of his stomach, and he spent the whole night staring at the ceiling and feeling sick.

 _I will never see my dad again._

The sentence ran through his mind over and over, but he still couldn't process it.

His father's glaring absence was so unsettling that Hiccup tried almost everything to distract himself. But he couldn't forget what happened. He couldn't forget what he'd seen.

And what he'd caused.

The following night was far worse. Sleep did manage to find him, but he wished desperately that it hadn't. Almost as soon as it claimed his mind, so did the nightmares. He saw flashes of jagged teeth, chipped claws, the flare of purple flame, burning bodies and a burning land. Blood covered everything. It plastered hair to his head and stuck in his fingers. Screams of dying people pierced his ears again and again, no matter how tightly he wrapped his arms around his head and begged, sobbing, for them to stop, _stop_ , _STOP_. Piles of corpses littered a charred, blackened ground.

A monstrous black beast towered over his prone form. He tried to get away, but his left leg was caught in the steel jaws of a trap. A bright light began to build in the creature's throat until he was blinded by the brilliance of it. He squeezed his eyes shut to do what little he could to brace himself for the blast that would surely end him, but it never came. When he dared to look again, his father was lying in a tattered, mangled mess at his feet, just another body to add to the ever-growing mounds.

Tears leaked out of eyes widened in horror and his stomach wrung itself with nausea. The black monster crept closer and closer, until powerful jaws snapped down on his leg and ripped it away. Hiccup screamed in agony, but the beast didn't stop there. It continued to advance on his battered body as he cowered against the jagged rocks like some pathetic, wounded animal. The air thickened with smoke and ash and he couldn't breathe or speak or think or _move_.

And then, the monster was close enough so that he could see his own reflection in its glassy eye, as clear as a calm pool of water. Its voice suddenly sounded inside his head—not a rough, savage voice, but a soft whisper that sounded a little too similar to his own.

" _Oh, Hiccup. Don't you know this is all your doing? It's your fault he's dead. You should've listened. If only you were wiser. If only you were more like him. Then this wouldn't have happened. What more can be taken from you before you finally learn? I suppose the only thing left for you to lose is your own life."_

The monster's jaws, dripping with dark crimson blood, opened once more to reveal the bright light burning like the sun inside a black throat and a horrific noise filled Hiccup's head, building and building and building until he thought he would explode from the intensity. He was going to die; he deserved to die. The light filled his vision until it was all he could see. The noise and the heat pressed on him until it became utterly unbearable and he _screamed_ because it was all he could do. He screamed and screamed and screamed—

And it was his own screaming finally woke him up.

When he came to his senses, he found himself sitting bolt upright in bed, panting like he hadn't drawn a breath all night. His chest heaved tremendously and his heart pounded hard and fast against his ribcage. His face was slick with a cold sweat and his body was wracked with tremors.

A soft croon sounded at the bedside, and a familiar scaly nose nuzzled against his arm—a touch that was meant to be comforting, and under normal circumstances, would be. But despite its familiarity, Hiccup flinched away violently with a flash of panic. " _Stay away!_ "

Luminescent green eyes peered at him questioningly through the darkness, hurt evident in the dragon's expression despite the night's dimness.

A twinge of guilt ran through Hiccup before he turned his head away. "Just go back to sleep, Toothless," he murmured, voice raspy and rough. "Everything's fine."

After the dragon had gone, Hiccup wiped the tears from his cheeks and settled back under the blanket he'd kicked off, but he didn't dare close his eyes. Vaguely, he wondered if he would ever be able to sleep again.

He couldn't. Not when his father's murderer was right there with him. _Inside_ him.

He would never, ever be able to forgive himself.


End file.
